


Firefly Fic: I Do Thee Take

by Goldy



Category: Firefly
Genre: Angst, Bittersweet, F/M, Fluff and Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-22
Updated: 2013-07-22
Packaged: 2017-12-20 05:56:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/883725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Goldy/pseuds/Goldy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mal and Inara attend a wedding, and then they fight about things, and then they talk about things, almost like adults.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Firefly Fic: I Do Thee Take

**Title** : I Do Thee Take  
 **Author** : [](http://goldy-dollar.livejournal.com/profile)[**goldy_dollar**](http://goldy-dollar.livejournal.com/)  
 **Disclaimer** : Joss is boss.  
 **Pairing** : Mal/Inara  
 **Spoilers** : Series through the BDM.  
 **Rating** : PG  
 **Words** : 4, 003.  
 **A/N** : Based on a prompt from teh minion: _Mal and Inara attend a wedding. Mayhaps there is cake. Mayhaps there is longing!angst. Mayhaps things turn out all right in the end._  
[](http://hjea.livejournal.com/profile)[ **hjea**](http://hjea.livejournal.com/): Sorry it took me so long! *huggles*

Monty lifted Inara off the ground, twirling her in a wide circle before setting her down. She laughed, brushing a piece of hair out of her mouth, fingers touching the daisies in her hair—presents from River. Satisfied, she accepted Montry’s hand and he swept her off for another round of dancing.

She looked happy. Hell, whole crew did. They descended on the food and drink like starved mules, and still found it fit to dance like a bunch of high-strung teens.

Course, it wasn’t every day they were witness to a bona fide marriage ceremony. Mal supposed some excess excitement and hormones wouldn’t exactly be remiss.

At least it wasn’t Simon and Kaylee. Not yet, anyway. Mal was getting mighty suspicious of the dopey way they were looking into each other’s eyes, doing some sort of slow-motion rutting that could be called dancing on some planets. River twirled along the outskirts of the party, her feet moving in perfect timing with the beat. Her skirt swung up around her knees, and she threw her hair back, also wearing the daisies. Jayne disappeared more than an hour ago, former Corporal Janet Flennings’ arm wrapped around his waist.

All in all, crew was each doing what they did best. And he was… keeping an eye on them. Like some sort of mother hen.

Damn, but if he wasn’t getting old.

Zoe came up beside him, silent but for the slight scuffle of her boots. “Looks like Monty’s taken a liking to Inara.”

“Has at that,” Mal said, eyes flicking to Inara again. She was something, dancing carefree like she was, starlight glittering the flowers in her hair.

“You keeping an eye on him?” Zoe said.

“Oh, yeah,” Mal said. “Just ‘cause we go back, don’t mean I won’t shoot him if he tries something.”

“Good plan, sir,” Zoe said dryly. “Inara’s had more’n her fair share to drink. Might render her judgment blurry.”

Mal cast a suspicious glance in her direction. “You implyin’ something about me, Zoe?”

“No, sir,” Zoe said. “No need for implying. Been wondering about Inara’s state of mind for the last few months.”

Mal settled on what he hoped was a dismissive snort. “Yeah, you and her both.”

“Never thought I’d see the day—”

“Oh, _come on_ ,” Mal said. “Ain’t that improbable, me and her. Some might even say it’d been brewing for a while now.”

“—that you and me’d be attending a Browncoat wedding,” Zoe finished, sending him a pointed look. To her credit, she refrained from commenting on his outburst.

Mal cleared his throat quite vehemently before responding. “Ain’t it something?” he said, attempting levity. “Like we’re moving on. Finding ourselves lives. Like real people.”

“Appears that way, sir,” Zoe said stiffly. The slight flash of pain in her eyes might’ve gone unnoticed by anyone that wasn’t him.

Damn. Mal scrambled around for something, and finally blurted, “But—no. Too much pomp and circumstances. Liable to give me indigestion.”

“Think it’s nice,” Zoe said, studying the crowd.

Mal swallowed and turned away. If he hadn’t been such a _hundahn_ , her and Wash maybe could’ve had something similar—brought the whole Browncoat crowd back together, been the ones to show that life goes on. Instead, they eloped, and not nobody was around to see it.

“But it ain’t a marriage,” Zoe said, startling him. “Real part comes after.”

Mal didn’t know what to say. He cleared his throat, wincing when Kaylee and Simon sex-danced past them.

Zoe touched his arm and gestured to the bar. “I think I’m going to get a drink.”

“Yeah. Good. Great idea,’ Mal said, relaxing.

Mal only had a few seconds to marvel on escaping that one relatively unscathed when Inara caught up to him. Mercifully, she was Monty free.

“Hey, you,” she said. If she was slurring, it was scarcely noticeable. “Don’t you want to come dance?”

The invitation was followed by the grabbing of his wrist with both hands, fingernails digging insistently into his skin.

“Dance?”

She widened her eyes, and let the tip of her tongue poke out between her lips. “Please?”

Well. When she said it all prettily like that.

“You sure I’m good enough for you?” Mal said. “Could probably find Monty again—”

Inara placed a hand on his cheek and gave him a stern look. “Big war hero like you, afraid of a little public display of affection? Might hurt your… reputation.”

Even sloshed, there was a daring glint in her eyes. All manner of unfair, her being able to coerce him to do things like… dance.

“Have an image to keep up,” Mal said. “Fought with these people, you know. Very manly.”

“I’m sure of that,” Inara said, tugging—no, _yanking_ —him forward. “I can assure you, we don’t have to go quite as far as Simon and Kaylee.”

“Bright side to everything, I suppose,” Mal said, and if his voice came out high and squeaky, it wasn’t his fault.

Warm arms encircled his neck, and Inara leaned her head on his shoulder, smiling in a stupid sort of way. Or maybe that was him. Hard to tell.

“It’s pretty.”

“Thank you.”

“No, not _you_ ,” Inara said, ignoring his frown. “The stars and the dancing. It’s just… pretty.”

She curled into him, all relaxed limbs, soft warmth, sleepy smile. _Inara_ —ex-Alliance Companion, could have her pick of any moon in the verse, dancing with him, on a scrap of land, staring wistfully at the stars.

“What about you?” Inara said, poking him non-too-gently against the collarbone.

Mal looked up at the sky. “Well, ain’t like I don’t see ‘em every day, out in the Black.”

Inara’s sigh told him he was being particularly dim-witted.

“What?” he mumbled. He glanced at her. “Weren’t talking about the stars, were you?”

Inara pressed her lips together, and shook her head. “No.”

“Then what were you—oh,” he said, looking around him—and immediately wishing he hadn’t. “Gettin' married. Settling.”

“I’m not suggesting…” she trailed off, forcing a wide smile. “We don’t have to talk about it now.”

“Yeah,” Mal said. “Cause there’s lots of time. For talkin’ about it later.”

“Like on the ship,” Inara pointed out.

“Right, yeah, on the ship,” Mal said. “Not in the middle of a wedding.”

Inara blinked at him, and Mal suddenly wished he’d left off that last word.

Well, it was safe to say there wasn’t going to be anymore peaceable dancing for the two of them. Inara looked to be sobering up, and he felt twitchy enough to jump out of his own skin.

“Why… what…” Mal held up a hand, and then tried again. “This… uh, this coming from somewhere?”

Inara hesitated before answering, biting down on her bottom lip. “These people, former corporals and sergeants, soldiers—the people you fought with--they’re moving on with their lives. And I just…”

“I got Serenity.”

“Serenity won’t be around forever, Mal.”

Mal looked around him and then grabbed her hand, pulling her away from prying ears. They went into the reception tent, white chairs still sitting pristinely in a row, flowers dotting the stage. Mal sat down in one of the chair, but Inara stayed standing.

“So?” Inara said.

“Course I think about it,” Mal said, jumping to his feet. He started to pace, not looking at her, fingers looped around his suspenders. “But that don’t mean…”

“What?” Inara said gently.

Mal stopped pacing and sat down. Again. He rested his elbows on his knees. “Always reckoned one day I’d find someone… build a life. Kids. Hell, whole package.”

She didn’t respond.

Mal shifted, scratching at the back of his neck, and added, “Whimsical, ain’t it? Not like to happen anytime soon.”

When he looked up, Inara very carefully studied the back of her fingernails, her other hand fiddling with the flowers in her hair.

“I’m going to get a drink,” she announced picking up her skirt.

Mal shot up. “Hold on, Inara—I didn’t mean—”

“There you two kids are!” One of Monty’s hands yanked back the tent flap, and he poked his head in, grinning at the both of them. “You ready to give me my girl back, Malcolm?”

Mal raised a hand. “ _Duìbùqî_ , your girl?”

“I’d love to dance, Monty,” Inara interrupted.

She held her hand out for Monty, the tent flapping shut over her skirt behind her.

“Uh—” Mal managed, belatedly, before realizing that the smart thing to do would be to go after her. He ducked out of the tent.

And ran smack into the happy couple.

Of all the things… Mal forced a pained smile on his face, his cheeks liable to burst from the effort.

Former Corporal Harry David Marrien Bennet-Jones straightened, hand going to his forehead in salute. “Sergeant, Reynolds, sir.”

His new wife clung to his sleeve, eyes whipping back and forth between them. “Hey, there,” she tried shyly.

“Yeah, uh—” Mal said. “Ain’t your sergeant no more, Jones.”

“Well…” Jones mouth opened and shut, and he finally pointed to his wife. “This is… well. My… my Mary-Anne.”

She smiled nervously, eyes peaking up at Mal from under a frill of blonde bangs. “Harry here’s always sayin’ you was the reason he made it out. Said you was the reason any of ‘em kept fightin’ down on Hera.”

Jones coughed into his hands, and offered Mal an apologetic shrug.

“Hera was a long time ago, Ma’am,” Mal said. “And it ain’t hardly something worth talking about on your wedding day.”

Jones was clearly uncomfortable. He shifted, shoving one hand into his pocket. “Won’t happen again, sar—sir,” he said.

The three of them eyed each other uncomfortably, Mary-Anne chewing on one fingernail, Jones fiddling with his pocket.

“Did well for yourself, son,” Mal managed. “Just don’t go passing down all your names to your children, _dong ma_? Make life real difficult for ‘em, if you do.”

They both nodded.

“Thank you, sarge—capt—sir,” Jones finally managed.

Mal clapped him on the shoulder as he twisted around the pair. He caught sight of River—not so much dancing anymore as bopping. There was a relaxed smile on her face, and her eyes lazily drifted over the festivities.

“Hey there, little albatross,” Mal said, feeling slightly ashamed when he tugged her away from the group. “Listen, you didn’t happen to…”

River sighed and folded her arms across her chest. “I’m not a cortex signal, Captain. Not my job to fix everyone’s problems.”

“Yeah, but…” Mal trailed off, ineffectively gesturing at the air. “Bit of help, darling? Leastaways, could tell me if I ought’a go north or south.”

River pretended not to hear him. She studied the crowd, most of whom were still wearing their brown coats—just like him and Zoe. Never quite ready to give it in.

“They still look up to you, you know,” River said softly, turning so that she wasn’t quite meeting his eyes. Instead she looked at his elbow, choosing her words carefully. “They think you’re the reason they survived that valley.”

“Yeah, well, many more of ‘em didn’t,” Mal said.

“I know,” River whispered. “I can feel it.”

Mal took a breath. And then another one. In what he thought was a perfectly reasonable tone of voice, he said, “River, you ain’t got the right to go—”

“I know I shouldn’t,” she said, lifting her chin to stare at him. “I know enough—too much. And sometimes I can make my way through it. And then it makes sense, and I can work it out, but other times…”

“Hey,” Mal said, putting a hand on her shoulder. “Hey, ain’t no bitty power you got yourself there, darling. It’ll take time, but you’re making progress.”

River backed away from him, and then turned her face to the moonlight, smiling wistfully. “Inara went back to the ship.”

“She did?” Mal said. “But she was havin’ such a fine time—”

River gave him a severe look, and Mal felt like he’d just dribbled spit on his shirt.

He pointed behind him. “So I’ll just…”

River rolled her eyes. “I’m not a cortex signal,” she repeated.

***

Serenity rarely felt so quiet. Was unusual that the whole crew left to take their fun elsewhere.

Mal climbed the stairs to the catwalk, noting the dust gathering on the railing, the faint echo of his boots on the stairs. Quiet.

“Inara?”

He found her on the floor of the shuttle, riffling through… a box? She had her head down, her hair shielding her face. She looked up when he came in, and wiped her nose with the back of her hand in the most unladylike way. In a suspicious way one would do if they were particularly congested—like they’d been crying.

Mal dropped to his knees beside her, reaching out to touch her before letting his arm hover and then sink back down to his side.

“What’s that?” Mal finally managed, wondering why, of all the questions in the ‘verse, it had to be that one. Could’ve asked her what had upset her, why she was crying. Instead, he was busy trying to satisfy his own curiosity.

Inara smiled, and took out a capture. She handed it to him, folding her hands patiently in her lap.

Mal was careful to touch only the capture’s corners, absurdly worried about smudging or breaking it. It was a baby. A pink, pruney, delicate looking thing with no hair and tiny pinched eyes. It was sleeping on it side, making no noise except for the occasional snort and snore.

Mal set it down. “Is that…?”

Inara nodded, taking the capture and setting it back in her box. Mal followed the movement, catching sight of a worn teddy bear, a scratched colouring book, and an old makeup kit.

“The nurse took it a few hours after I was born,” Inara said. “I was a heavy sleeper, never colicky.”

“It, uh… you were so tiny,” he said lamely.

Inara rifled through her box, tears glistening in her eyes. “I don’t remember much about my parents. I heard… stories. They said my mother was a dancer. That she was beautiful.”

“That don’t surprise me,” Mal whispered.

Inara stared down at her hands, faint blush colouring her cheeks.

“You don’t remember them?” Mal said. “Cause you went into Companion school?”

She gave him a withering look. “Because they died.”

Mal suddenly felt about two-feet high. “Oh,” he said, sounding like a gorram five-year-old, caught nicking cookies from the kitchen.

“The Guild became my family,” Inara said, packing up her box, shoving the capture to the bottom. “I was lucky.”

“When did your parents die?”

Inara looked up at him as if surprised at having told him about it at all. “Young,” she said. “There was… an accident.”

“I’m sorry.”

Her look gentled and she put one hand on his. “Don’t be. It was a long while ago. And anyway—” she drew her arm back to her side and stood up. “Don’t you have a party to be dancing in?”

“Yeah—” Mal sprung up, rubbing at the back of his neck. “Inara, ‘bout before… what I said about settling down.”

She looked away. “There’s no need to…”

“Reckon there is,” Mal said, taking a step closer. “Made it sound like I didn’t—just don’t want you getting the wrong impression. You know there ain’t nobody but you could see myself with?”

“Oh, Mal,” she whispered, sitting down heavily. “Of course I know that.”

He stared at her. “Then…”

Inara smoothed out her dress, fingers lingering on her knees. “Sit down.”

“Prefer to stand.”

She bowed her head. “Fine.”

She fiddled again with her dress, her hair, prompting Mal to give a pointed throat clearing. “Well?”

“I should never have brought this up,” Inara said. “I’d had too much to drink, and we were dancing, and…”

“Inara—” Mal said. “If there’s something you need to be saying, best be saying it.”

She inclined her head. “Alright.” She rested her palms on her knees and raised her head. “At the Guild, you work as a Companion, and then you stay with them—you… you live an independent existence.” She swallowed, smiling faintly. “You travel, or you work in the administration. You never have to worry about anything. Most would give anything for such a life.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

Inara blinked, startled, barest hints of guilt in her eyes. “I just—I want you to understand.”

“Yeah?” he said. “Understand, huh? That life with your Guild was miles better’n whatever I can offer…” he trailed off and slammed his hand against the doorway. “Gorramit, Inara, thought we was passed this.”

Her voice was quiet. “Leaving the Gild was a big step for me, Mal.”

Several insults echoed in his mind. Words like ‘Alliance whore.’ Things he would’ve killed another man for saying. Things he would’ve once used against her.

“I know that,” he said. Which wasn’t true, not really. He’d been taking it for granted since day one, assuming that his way of life was better than hers.

She seemed to read his thoughts. “I’m trying to explain—”

“Explain what?” he shot back. “You sayin’ you’re aiming to go back to ‘em one day? That it? Like this means nothing?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“What am I looking at here, Inara?” he snapped. “A year? Two, before you leave again?”

“I don’t know, Mal,” Inara said testily. “That’s what I’m saying. _I don’t know_. I never thought I would…” she pressed her fingers to her eyes, drawing a shaky breath. “This wasn’t exactly something I planned for.”

“ _Lao tyen yeh_ ,” Mal said. “I wish to hell you’d never stepped onto this boat.”

Her head jerked up. “You don’t mean that.”

He pointed at her. “Brought nothing but…” he stopped. Too many ways to finish that sentence. He swore and turned to the door. “Ain’t exactly a patient man, Inara.”

She snorted, but it sounded more like a sob. “Believe it or not, I’m not saying this to hurt you. I don’t see why you can’t try and… and understand.”

He spun around. “Because I _love_ you.”

Inara’s gaze dropped to her hands, and she stiffened. “Mal—”

“Can’t think straight about it, about _you_.” Mal cut himself off before he could say more. He rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Go back to the Guild if that’s what you want. Won’t try’n stop you.”

“Mal, please.” She fingered the daisy in her hair and it slipped out, falling to rest at her feet. She gazed at it blankly, before moving to wipe the lone tear from her cheek.

He held up a hand. “Take some time. Think we should both… take some time. To settle.”

He didn’t wait to hear an answer.

***

Rest of the party was no more than a hazy dream. There were folk dancing, singing, off in their own worlds. Husband and wife disappeared long while back, fingers curled together, cake stuffed in their mouths. Even Zoe was dancing.

It shouldn’t matter. Not to him. He had his family. Serenity. Was enough.

So he told himself, knocking back his fourth beer—drunk, not drunk _enough_. Not nearly enough. Not even enough to dull the faint edges of the argument.

It was getting on to the early hours of the morning when he finally drudged back up to the ship, smelling about as pleasant as his Ma’s fields after she set down the fertilizer.

Swallowing his pride, Mal made his way to the shuttle. Was the price he paid for being the man, wasn’t it? Breaking down first.

Inara wasn’t sleeping. She was lying in bed, reading, the rest of the shuttle tidily settled around her.

“Hi,” she whispered when she saw him, setting down the book and sitting up straighter. She was wearing a small, black pair of spectacles, sitting daintily across her nose.

“Hey yourself.”

He hadn’t known she wore glasses. When had that happened?

Inara seemed to read his mind. “They’re for reading,” she said, tugging them off her nose and folding them carefully. “I just bought them.”

Mal hesitated, and then sat down next to her, the bed springs creaking under his weight. That, along with Inara’s glasses, made him feel old—like to be creaking in the same way, a few years time.

“So here’s what I’ve been thinking,” Mal said, patting the lumpy part of the blanket—where, he hoped, her legs were. “I’m thinking that it must’ve been a mighty big step, you leaving the Guild like you did for me.”

Inara gave a throaty sigh that turned into a laugh. “Yes.”

“Guess I should be thankful,” Mal said.

“Yes,” Inara said again, one of her knees coming up to nudge him in the backside.

Mal raised his eyebrows. “And just ‘cause you left ‘em, don’t mean I’m ready to settle down with you, you hear? There’s lots of… there’s dangers left in this world to face, woman. We’ve got… crime, and a whole lot of smuggling to take part in before we could even go about considering giving it up.”

“Mal,” she said warningly. She smoothed one fingernail down the page of her book. Pink nail. Matched the rest of the shuttle. “I… thank you.”

He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t been hoping for a mite more than that.

“Alright, then,” he mumbled. He patted the lumpy part of the comforter again, and then stood. “So. We’re okay?”

“Yes,” Inara whispered. She shoved the book off to the side, placing it next to her glasses. “Mal?”

He was next to her again in an instant, small part of him daring to hope. “Yeah?”

“I’d had a lot to drink earlier.” She paused, biting nervously on the corner of her lip. “And it was hard not to feel caught up in… the moment.”

“Yeah, so?” Mal pressed, edge creeping into his voice again. She always did this to him. Spoke in riddles and half-truths, somehow expecting him to pick his way through her words to find the real meaning.

“When I gave up my spot with the Guild, I honestly never expected to go back to them.”  
She tilted her head to the side, smiling faintly at some private memory. “I don’t… I can’t tell you what the future will bring, but I’m certainly not planning to take off as soon as things get… tougher.”

“Well, that’d be… I….” He wasn’t so good at the talking bit. The yelling and general throwing about of insults? _That_ , he could do. This part was harder. Finally, he managed a swallow, “I appreciate that.”

She blinked a few times, and rubbed sleep out of her eyes, maybe as surprised as he was that the whole thing had been relatively… painless.

Huh.

“What’re you reading?” he said.

There was more blinking, and she had to go fumbling around for her book—set the glasses back on—before staring sleepily down at the title. “I don’t… I wasn’t paying…”

“Much attention?” Mal said. “Cause we were fighting?”

The slight roll of her eyes told him not to push it, but she didn’t protest when he sat back down on the bed. He gently prodded the book out of her grasp, setting it down on one knee.

“Inara, this looks sort’a girlie.”

“Why?” she said. “Because it’s about a girl?”

He shot her a look. “Because the title is _Anne of Green Gables_.”

Inara snorted into her hand. “There’s hardship and misfortune. I think you’d like it.”

“Yeah?” Mal opened the first page. “Want I should read it?”

Inara yawned, and settled down into her pillows. “Yes, please.”

“Why?” Mal demanded. “Because it’ll put you to sleep?”

“As a matter of fact, yes,” Inara said. He opened his mouth to protest, but she reached out to pat his hand. “Something I could certainly use.” She paused. “Please?”

Well, what was he supposed to say to that?

He opened the first page.


End file.
